Scars aren't so bad
by Wench of Hogsmead
Summary: Hermione is trying to heal a scar of Harry’s for a charms assignment when he misinterprets “Is it hard yet?”


Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Ron. They had just finished a lengthy transfiguration essay, and were "giving their minds a rest," as Ron liked to put it. They sat in comfortable silence, caught staring at the flames of the warm hearth. They hardly noticed when Hermione entered through the portal and sat down in the armchair beside them until she asked an odd question that jarred them out of their trance.

"Do either of you have any scars?"

Harry and Ron gave each other similar looks as if she were mad.

"Hmm… let me think. Gee Hermione, I can't think of anyone I know who has a scar of some kind. Can you think of anyone Harry?"

Harry smirked at Ron's obvious sarcasm, but was curious to find out why Hermione had asked such a thing. He noticed that she had a faint blush, which she attempted to hide with a look of frustration.

"I meant a NORMAL scar that you would like me to try and get rid of. It's an advanced charms assignment. I tried it on myself, but I've only got a few small ones. It worked well enough, but I want to perfect this charm! I figured one of you must have a few deep ones, what with quidditch and all."

Harry knew he had many scars on his body, most of them caused by living with the Dursleys. His back was covered in them, as his "family" thought this to be the most inconspicuous place to beat him. He had wounds from frying pans, belts, buckles… basically anything that was handy at the time. He had many lesser scars from scrapes and burns, but nothing too obvious that he wanted removed. Ron interrupted his thoughts.

"I don't want any of mine removed! Scars are wicked! They tell stories. See this one here," Ron pointed to his elbow. "I got this when I fell of that chess piece in first year. Wasn't very pleasant getting it, but it was still the best game of chess I ever played! This is proof!"

Hermione gave him an understanding nod, but mumbled something akin to "boys" under her breath. "What about you Harry?" Hermione looked at him with pleading eyes.

Harry could think of three scars he wanted to get rid of, all of which caused him embarrassment. One was his lightning scar, but he doubted Hermione would be able to rid him of that (as much as he wished she could). Another was the 'I will not tells lies' embedded on his right hand. He effectively covered that with a glamour charm. He didn't want anyone to know about that. As much as he hated Umbridge, he was too embarrassed and mad at himself for allowing her to put him through that cruel and unusual punishment to tell anyone, especially not his friends. That only left one more, an annoying, clearly defined bite mark from his aunt Marge's dog on his left calf. He was even too embarrassed to wear shorts. It wasn't so much large as it was deep, but as a child, he had felt his leg was as good as mangled. He decided that it wouldn't be so bad to have that one removed.

"Here's one for you." Harry said casually. He propped his leg up on the cushion next to him and rolled up his pant leg. He tried to ignore Hermione's gasp, which was presumably from disgust.

"Oh Harry, that's awful! How in the world did you get that?" Hermione asked with genuine concern.

"What is it? Let me see." Ron made his way over from the other side of the sofa to get a better look.

Harry berated himself for volunteering. He felt like more of a freak show when it's his friends staring.

"Er… it's nothing. The Aunt that I blew up had a pit-bull. You see why she named him Ripper?"

Ron seemed to be satisfied with that answer, as he suggested that next time Harry should blow up the dog and pop it. Hermione, however, didn't look convinced, and gave Harry a look that suggested 'I'll talk to you later.' He hadn't exactly lied to them. Ripper really had bit him. Harry just left out the why and when; which happen to be 'for the amusement of the family' and 'six years old.'

"Well, this is perfect for practice, I see why you would want to get rid of this one. Now, bend your knee, and hold still." Hermione said the incantation _morsus amotio_, and blue sparks began to shoot out the end of her wand and onto the scar. It reminded Harry of a laser. She moved it in slow, deliberate strokes back and forth across the scarred area. It didn't hurt; in fact, it felt rather nice, as if fingers were brushing across his skin. Harry suddenly became very conscious of the fact that Hermione's other hand was currently resting on his thigh, and he was enjoying her ministrations way too much. What could he do? He could pull away, but she would ask questions… he needed to distract himself. Aha! He'll just keep his eye on Ron. That'll keep his mind strait!

"Is it getting hard yet?"

Harry's mind went blank.

"Wha… what did you say?"

"I said…does it feel hard yet?" She said it perfectly innocently! Of all the…

"The book said that you should feel a slight tingling sensation, then after a while it will feel really hard. If I change direction, then it will go away, but if not, it will become quite painful."

Harry just stared at her open mouthed. What was she saying!

"Buh… wha… er.. um, that is…"

"Harry! What's wrong with you? All I want to know is if the scar feels hard or painful. Maybe I'm not doing it right. Could I have read the directions wrong?"

Harry felt like slapping himself in the face. Of course she was talking about the scar! How perverted was he? And more importantly… why was he thinking of his best friend like that!

"Oh, um, no if feels fine. That is… it doesn't feel hard, but it was tingling for a bit."

Well, that seemed to relax her.

"Good, so I wasn't wrong. Why didn't you answer before?" Hermione turned her head to side, suggesting curiosity. Harry notice that she was hiding a smirk. She knew! Oh god, he was never so embarrassed. And what's worse… she's teasing him! Harry decided that it was her fault in the first place, putting her hand on his leg and all, which she was currently moving a little higher. Okay, he's not going to let her win.

"Well, I guess I was just a bit distracted, it is awful hot in here. Don't you think?"

Harry leaned back on the sofa, with one leg dangling off the side and the other still propped up in Hermione's hold. He unknotted his Gryffindor tie and unbuttoned the first four buttons of his white school shirt. Just for a little extra effect, he messed up his hair a bit more (an action which, if proven hereditary, was by some described as "irresistible").

It was apparently working, for Hermione's face was bright red, and she looked horribly flustered. That brought a smirk to Harry's face. He noticed that she had removed her wand from his leg, but her hand remained in place. Just a moment ago, her face was cover by her hair, as she had ducked her head in embarrassment. Unfortunately for Harry, when she looked up, she had an evil look that did not belong on her face… Uh oh.

"Oh yeah, your right Harry, it is sooo hot. Hmmm… are you sure it's not hard yet? Here, let me feel…" She put her wand down and ran her fingers over the old bite wound. She slowly rubbed his thigh with the other, dragging her fingers higher and lower, higher and lower, until…

"Ah! Stop! Ha-ha ha-ha Stop! Please stop! HAHA AHAHA!"

Hermione latched herself onto his leg and was relentlessly tickling the back of his bare knee. He tried to kick her off with the other leg while being mindful not to hurt her.

"Ha-ha, Stop! Okay you win you win you win!"

They both continued laughing, trying to catch their breaths.

"Oh get a room... honestly!" said Ron, who had gone previously unnoticed by the pair.

Harry and Hermione were slightly embarrassed, but still couldn't stop laughing.

"Well, that was fun!" Said Harry, trying to lighted the mood so as not to slip into awkwardness. "Yes, well, your scar is still there…"

"Oh no, you'll have to do that latter… now, it's payback time." Harry pounced to tickle her, but she ran out of the way to quickly, and right up into the girl's dormitory. Harry accepted defeat for the moment, but was still smiling to himself. And… oh, finally, the scar actually began to harden. He got an evil glint in his eyes. He walked to the bottom of the girls dormitory and hollered up the stairs… "Hey Hermione! I'm hard! You wanna finish me off!" He heard her horrified shriek accompanied by shocked eruptions and squeals of her dorm mates. His last thought before the firsts of many hexes were tossed at him was 'perhaps scars aren't so bad after all!'


End file.
